


What is the function of a human skull?

by petals_sunwards



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Arthur Weasley is clueless about muggle culture, Confusion, Crossover, Explosions, Gen, Humor, Magical Accidents, Magical Artifacts, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Ministry of magic Employee, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, Muggle Culture, Muggle Sherlock, Sherlock Being Annoying, Sherlock is a Brat, The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, funny situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-29 23:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17817758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petals_sunwards/pseuds/petals_sunwards
Summary: When Arthur Weasley receives a memo regarding Mundungus Fletcher's recent sale, he thought his task for the day was simple. He was going to visit the muggle, retrieve the object and return it. But if the muggle in question is Sherlock Holmes, things are never simple.





	What is the function of a human skull?

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own either Sherlock or Arthur Weasley. I do not use them for making fortune.  
> I wrote it in response to Siriusly Amazing Writing Challenge posted in FB group 'Hermione's Nook.'  
> My prompt was  
> "Just to be sure we are on the same page!"  
> "Page? We're not even in the same library"
> 
> It is my first time writing both of these characters so they come off as a bit OOC. I hope you enjoy reading this as much I enjoyed writing it.

The morning of 29th August dawned bright and happy for both employees of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. They had already sent memos regarding their last raid about screaming tea-pots and filed paperwork to skip obliviation of a poor old lady harassed by the pot. She had possessed it for a week and hadn't realized it was screaming at her. If it hadn't been for a startled thief and confused police officers, they wouldn't have detected it at all. Therefore when three airplanes flew in the small room, they groaned in unison.

"Reports about a comb that sets hair on fire and a hiding shoe pair in Ireland" Perkins read out two reports aloud while Arthur examined the third.

"Tom heard Mundungus Fletcher sold something to a muggle in London today. He reported it to Aurors and they want us to investigate. If you take other two I will track down Dung. He should be around hog's head" Arthur told his second in command and grabbed his coat to leave his office.

It wasn't hard to track down the petty thief and gather details about his dealings with the muggle. He had spent a few nights on London streets and heard rumors about a potential client. A man named Sherlock Holmes was looking for a human skull and was willing to pay any price. He had acquired the hollering skull from a shopfront in the Knockturn alley and had sold it to him to make quick cash. Arthur reprimanded the shady man and apparated to London in search of one Sherlock Holmes.

Once in London, Arthur carefully transfigured his robes into a suit similar to a passerby, sheathed his wand in his coat pocket and turned the corner on the Baker's Street. He adjusted his tie and solemnly knocked on the door of 221B.

"Is this a residence of Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" he enquired when a rather old lady opened the door instead of a tall thin man Dung had described.

" Oh hello! I am Mrs. Hudson, his landlady. Come on in. He is upstairs." She ushered him up the stairs as she alerted Sherlock of his presence.

"Good Morning Mr. Holmes. I am Arthur Weasley and I am here to.." Arthur's words hung in the air as the gentleman stared at him intently.

"Boring. You are likely some low-level government employee. Your clothes are well tailored but your shoes and hat are not of the same quality. Ergo, you think your visit here is important and you tried your best to dress for the part, most likely to impress me. You are happily married for a long time, your wedding ring shows wear and tear so this is not about a cheating wife. Poor you may be, but you have a domestic bliss and a bird as a family pet. You are well liked and easy going so this must not be about someone threatening or blackmailing you. Your position in the office is not important enough to be perceived as a threat. There is nothing you have to say that can persuade me to lend you my services."

If Arthur hadn't had enough practice with his troublesome sons, sneering Malfoy and omniscient Dumbledore; he would have been intimidating by the man. He might be an interesting person to chat, however, Arthur was here for an important Business. He calmly opted the voice he reserved for the twins and ordered the man to sit down.

"Mr. Holmes, I do not have any idea as to what you do for a living and I am in no need for your services. This is about the skull you have acquired recently. At his words, Sherlock seemed taken aback. If Arthur had any idea about muggle culture he would have realized that acquiring a human skull is frowned upon in normal setting. Also, someone walking into your house and calmly talking about an illegal purchase is not an everyday occurrence, that's usually a job for a police officer. But Arthur paid no heed to Sherlock's reaction and continued talking.

"The man who sold you the skull had stolen it from a shop. We received a message about it this morning. As this is under my jurisdiction, I have come to retrieve it and return it to its rightful owner. We could not recover your money, however, I can assist you to look for another one."

The young man, who had started playing with the toy in his hand halfway through the explanation looked up and arched an elegant eyebrow.   
"So let me get this straight. A man stole a human skull from a shop, illegally sold it to me and then proceeded to tell officials about his crimes. Or a shady shop which sells questionable items reported a theft to officials and said official is willing to help a person who made an underhanded deal with a thief to find another one?" 

"Umm... Actually, he bragged to the innkeeper about money he made by a sale and since Dung is known for his petty thefts, the innkeeper alerted me of a possible crime."

"So if I hand you back this one, you will return it to its rightful owner and help me get another one?"

 "Yes. But I cannot recover the money you spent on it. **Just to be sure we are on the same page**!"

" **Page? We're not even in the same library** " Sherlock snapped. "I knew Mycroft is keeping tabs on me but to send someone under such a trivial ruse and such a poor script is low even for him. Though you should have researched more. The man who sold it to me was definitely Irish. You are clearly from Devonshire and hence have no jurisdiction in London. If you are even a government official" His rant broken by the chime of the device in his hand.

"Hah! Right again!" He triumphantly waved it as if it meant something and continued.

"Brother, you need to up your game. I won this round. You didn't even set up a fake identity for your spy this time. Unless this was your plan all along. Is this another puzzle? But if it is then why would you send such unassuming man." Sherlock broke off his monologue and inspected Arthur again.

"Nope. Didn't miss anything. You don't own a car and didn't drive one here anyhow. Your shoes have some dirt but it does not indicate anything other than you traveled to the city this morning. You do have... "

"Get away from the shop you scum" A loud voice interrupted Sherlock's triad.

"Intruder. Intruder. Get away from the shop. Intruder. Intruder" The voice grew louder steadily as Sherlock followed its origin.

Arthur just pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. This day was not turning out the way he had planned. He was supposed to visit the muggle, get the skull and return it to the shop. Hollering skulls usually had proximity charms and intruder wards on them and technically were not illegal. The charms keeping it quiet so far had faded and it had sensed an unknown entity in its perimeter. He hoped the owner of the skull was aware of the theft and wouldn't pop in to investigate why wards were going off.

Sherlock, on the other hand, was not discouraged by the shrill screaming. He approached the skull with gleaming eyes and started inspecting it. "Curious. It somehow senses I am coming closer and I am not its rightful owner. No battery or proximity sensor. No on-off switch. Why were you silent until this man popped up?"

"Your pockets. It didn't go off until you showed up. You are clutching something in your right coat pocket. You are the part of the scheme. Some gang secret I stumbled upon? But it doesn't make sense to start screaming if someone finds your lair. It will attract unwanted attention and risk of exposure." He continued, turning to face Arthur.

"Unless it's not me you are screaming at. It is him. I am just a middleman who stumbled across you on accident. You don't like him and want to alert your owner of HIS presence. Why? Why? Why?" Sherlock abruptly stopped his pacing and flopped down on the large chair, settling the hollering skull on the coffee table.

His comment struck a chord with Arthur. It was entirely possible to charm an object to detect ministry badges. If one put up selective silencing charms others would not be able to hear its screams and the shop-owner could hide their goods before the raid. Since his badge was hidden inside his coat pocket and not prominently displayed on his robes like usual, it had taken a while for the artifact to detect Arthur’s presence. Also, he was alone and not with the team.  More people wearing badges would set off the alarm even earlier. He would have to take it to the ministry for investigation instead of returning it to the owner. Arthur wasn’t sure why the muggle thought his brother had sent him as a spy or why he wasn’t freaking out about the screaming inanimate object in his living room. But he was not going to burst man’s bubble as long as he doesn’t realize magic was involved.

The nosy muggle had yet to seize talking with the skull or observing it. Before Arthur had a chance to intervene, he had pulled a muggle contraption (a gun, Arthur later realized) and shot the skull with it. The coffee table shattered into pieces once the bullet hit it but that blasted (literally) skull wasn’t even scratched. It just changed its catchphrase and started shouting “Attack. Attack” on top of its lungs (where were its lungs anyway, Sherlock idly wondered). He had a total of five seconds to react before was knocked off his feet and thrown towards the fireplace. Arthur’s magic had instinctively reacted to the loud noise and had lashed towards the perceived threat. Sherlock’s head hit the corner and he passed out due to impact.

Arthur looked around the room and sighed for the fourth time since he had met Sherlock. While he wasn’t stranger to explosions and loud noises, it had been a long time since he had a bout of accidental magic. He could hear footsteps coming upstairs and quickly silenced and hid the skull in his coat. He made a mental note to keep twins away from guns and his discovery of the skull. He discreetly transfigured some debris to look like remains of the skull before Mrs. Hudson entered.

“Sherlock, you are going to pay for the damage this time. You cannot keep blowing things up if you want to live here, your rent doesn't cover it. It is your last warning.” Mrs. Hudson’s words died when she saw pale Arthur and bleeding Sherlock in the room.  
“He didn’t shoot you, did he? He is a bit eccentric at times. Let me call for an ambulance for him and then I will get first aid box for you dear.” She bristled around the room to find a phone and a medical kit.

“He shot at that skull and it exploded on him. I am fine Mrs. Hudson, not a scratch on me. I will just get going. Good day, ma’am.” Arthur lamely finished and scurried out of the room. The muggle wasn’t seriously injured, he wasn’t aware of the existence of magic and the skull was back where it belonged. His mission at the 221B Baker’s Street was complete.

Unbeknownst to either of them, a man smiled at his computer screen as he watched the footage. Hiding a little spycam in the living room of 221B Baker's Street was one of his brightest ideas. Surveillance status of one Sherlock Holmes needed to be bumped to level two.

THE GAME WAS ON.


End file.
